As Simple As That
by Feagalad
Summary: "Is even Heaven shipping us now!" What if there was another way to stop the Apocalypse? AU


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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_Thanks for the prompt goes to __**LeeMarieJack**__._

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing. Not even the idea, in this case. I merely attempted to bring it to life._

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><p>Michael glared at a particularly dotty cupid (Why <em>had <em>his Father created those infernal gigglers in the first place?) and swept past two gossiping cherubim on his way to speak with Zachariah about the latest developments on the Dean Winchester case.

When he reached the office of his lead strategist, however, the archangel found a mess of papers and feathers and one extremely frazzled angel. Zachariah looked horrible. His majestic form seemed to be going through a second molting (something Michael wasn't even aware was _possible_) and his vessel was worn and tired to the point that it would probably be wise to just call a Reaper to take the poor soul within straight away.

"Zachariah?"

There was a thud and what sounded like a muffled curse as said angel stood up with a snap and banged a wing off of the wall, shedding still more bedraggled feathers. Clearly whatever it was that had put Zachariah on the back foot had left him incapable of preening for the equivalent of at least several months.

"Michael, sir!" Zachariah threw a salute. "I, uh, I was not expecting to see you so soon!"

Michael raised an eyebrow. "It is time for your regular report." He said, glancing at the mess of heavenly paperwork (Were the rumours that they had less in Hell true?). ''Any progress on the Winchester situation?"

"Yes, sir...I mean...no, sir." Zachariah rubbed his nose. "Lucifer has recently released the Horseman Famine on the Earth and Sam Winchester has relapsed into his poison of choice."

"Demon blood?"

"Yes. He is back on the path to becoming the vessel for the Morningstar."

Michael sighed. "So Famine rides across the land."

"Er. Not exactly."

"Not exactly?" Zachariah looked somewhat bewildered and Michael wondered why he had ever given command over to a non-archangel. (Oh...right...because bratty Gabriel threw a tantrum and skipped town.) "Just spit it out."

"Sam Winchester appears to have exorcised Famine to some extent."

Come again?

Well _that _was certainly unexpected! Michael tried very hard not to gape and instead rubbed his nose, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. "Sam Winchester exorcised Famine? The Horseman Famine?"

Zachariah shrugged. "That is what the reports are. He is comatose as a stone and his ring is gone, presumably taken by the Winchesters."

"What else?" Feeling the pounding at his temples, Michael just wanted to get the report over. "Any news on what has become of Castiel?"

"The famous span in the works?" Zachariah snorted. "No. Last I heard he was somewhere over Greenland purging his vessel of several pounds of raw hamburger. He vanished before we could pick him up, though. If you ask me that little punk needs a few sessions with Naomi. I can't _believe _you sent _him _into Hell after Dean Winchester!"

He quailed at Michael's frosty glare. "Castiel was the only one to volunteer, Zachariah. I certainly didn't see _you _volunteering to march right down to Alistair's boudoir to pull out the Righteous Man."

"My apologies, sir. But Castiel has been notoriously unstable ever since the Sodom and Gomorrah incident."

"I fail to see what that has to do with your report."

"HE HAS WARDED THE WINCHESTERS AGAINST US!" Zachariah exploded, practically foaming at the mouth. Michael wondered if he was quite stable or if the pressures of full-on war had at last cracked him. Zachariah was still ranting. "...I don't know what he did or how he did it, but unless we run into them by some happy trick of Fate or unless they tell us where they are (which isn't going to happen) we cannot find the Winchesters anywhere. This STINKS of Castiel going off the road again. Hell must have undone all of Naomi's hard work."

Michael shivered. There weren't many things that could unsettle Heaven's General and the eldest archangel in existence...but Naomi and her methods were one of them. Sometimes he privately wondered if she wasn't secretly one of Lucifer's original followers that had somehow managed to sneak back into Heaven after Father left. Angels that went to her for rehabilitation always came back slightly wrong. Slightly more...robotic, would probably be the term humans would use. Whatever she was doing to them (and Michael didn't want to know) she could probably give Alistair a few tips on her good days. "Keep an eye out for him, Zachariah. If we find Castiel we may be able to use him to draw out the Winchesters. For all their suspicion of us and the eldest's fondness for naming us as parts of the male genitalia, they are fond of Castiel for some reason."

Zachariah smiled wearily and ran a hand through his vessel's thinning hair. "I'll send out word on angel radio immediately."

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><p><em>"Michael? Michael, are you there?" <em>

Michael sat bolt upright, all muscles tensed and ready for a fight. "Brother?"

_"Yes." _Lucifer sounded for all the world like the rebellious yet vulnerable young fledgling he had once been and, not for the first time, did Michael mourn the entrance of sin and the need to seal his brother away when all was said and done. _"Brother, I - "_

It had been ages of the world since anyone had heard from Lucifer in anything but a taunt or a middle finger from the havoc his followers led the humans astray in. What was he doing on archangel radio now? "What do you want?"

_"I...can we talk?"_

It had to be a trap. Impossible. There was no way that LUCIFER would EVER let himself sound so lost and confused and even a bit upset unless it were merely a lie. He had been incapable of anything but self-pity and arrogance for eons. "We are talking, Lucifer."

There was a sigh. _"No. I mean can we talk face-to-face? I am currently in Intercourse, Pennsylvania." _

Oh of _course _he would choose a town named after fornication! Michael wondered if he should go find Raphael and seek advice about this suspicious sounding meeting, but found he couldn't bring himself to share just yet. He supposed his vice had always been selfishness, just as Lucifer's had been pride. His brother had contacted _him _and was even now sounding vulnerable to _him _and he would be damned if he threw that away...even if it _was _a trap.

Lucifer seemed to guess what Michael was thinking and huffed out a laugh. _"Thousands of years and you have not changed, brother." _He said. _"I swear to you on my word (not that it's worth much, but what else do I have?) that just this once there is no trick. I am quite alone. You will be in no danger...I merely wish to talk to my brother face-to-face again." _

Had he already possessed Sam Winchester and absorbed some of the young man's ridiculous hero complex? "How do I know I can trust you?"

_"Father of Lies, Michael. You can't. But I trust you will do what you know is the best." _There was a pause and then, _"Mikey, PLEASE." _

Father help him if it was a sin, but he never could resist his brother whenever he had pleaded like that. What brother could? "Very well, Lucifer." One day he would have to ignore the pleads and the half-truths and smite him, but that was not this day. Michael gathered his grace around him and sighed. "Shield your vessel's eyes."

In a blink the powerful archangel descended to Earth and found a temporary vessel in Father Peter, the leader of a local Russian Orthodox church, before going to meet his brother.

Lucifer was leaning against the back of a liqueur store, looking sullen and...was that a bit of 'squicked' in his expression? "Hello, Lucifer." Michael said, landing and waiting for either the blade to the back or the snarky remarks designed to deceive and wound. But neither came. Lucifer merely nodded.

"Good evening, Michael." He said, standing up and brushing off his vessel's jacket. "Walk with me?"

Shoulder to shoulder, as they had not stood for a millenia, the brothers walked down the main street of the town and out into the countryside in near-comfortable silence. "So." Lucifer broke it at last, sounding almost lost for words. "Who is the poor bastard who let you possess his grapefruit?"

"Father Peter." Michael replied. "A devout follower of Father. You?"

"Nicholas Diablo." Lucifer grinned. "It was meant to be."

"What did you promise him? Eternal glory and the wealth of nations?"

There was a snort from the fallen archangel. "_Please_." He scoffed. "Now I see why you leave PR to Naomi and Zach...your deception skills are pathetic."

"Because lying is a sin."

"Oh sure. But it's easier." Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Always such a stick-in-the-mud. Also, for your information, gold and virgins isn't the selling point around here any more. Works better to play up the victim profile better." He put on a mocking voice. "Daddy hated me! Daddy abandoned me! Life isn't fair! Nobody loves me! Boohoo!" (Michael wondered if Lucifer realised just how much he was describing his own shortcomings), "Works like a charm. All you have to do is remind them that life sucks and that their God couldn't possibly exist or care if such suffering happens and they're like putty in your hands. Doubt, brother, it festers in us all."

Michael felt sick. "That is disgusting. We were to protect the humans, not twist their minds and souls."

"Right. Because _your _side has never neglected some truths in order to manipulate." Lucifer suddenly sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Look. Forget it. I didn't bring you here to fight, brother. We are not yet in vessels strong enough and...I don't think we ever will be."

"Winchester trouble?"

"Not exactly. Sam has yet to find a way to shut me out of his dreams...but word has come in that Sam and Dean Winchester are, well..." He banged Nick's fists together and Michael frowned. Was Satan _blushing_?

"They are what?"

"Y'know." The banging motion was repeated.

Michael drew a blank. "I have not the pleasure of understanding you, brother. Please speak more plainly."

Lucifer was definitely red now, blushing all the way down to his grace and in danger of burning right through poor, deceived Nick. He got up real close to Michael's ear (giving the elder angel deja vu of their younger, more innocent days) and whispered harshly. "They are INVOLVED with each other."

Oh. _OHHHH. _THAT explained the squicked look on Satan's face. Michael swallowed, feeling rather ill himself. Oh Father! "You are certain?"

"As certain as I'm standing before you today. After Famine was taken off the playing board I managed to catch up with a rather dotty cupid."

"Aren't they all?" Michael snorted. Lucifer grinned.

"Well, true, but this one was particularly insane and giggling. He _hugged _me and was close to sprinkling me with with pink glitter before I threatened him with a smiting."

"Did that sober him up?"

"No. I've always been suspicious that those little horrors are responsible for the invention of Happy Pills, but I've never seen one so stoned before. Chubby thing wouldn't stop giggling about 'love' and 'romance' and singing sappy love songs." Satan was looking rather green. "The only clear answer I could beat out of him was that Dean had punched him and that he had 'sensed' it was 'meant to be' and 'star-crossed soulmates' and all the other crap they spout off on a regular basis after they finish their rounds."

"Dean Winchester punched a cupid?"

"Yes."

Hmmm. Maybe this whole 'vessels are similar to their angels' theory that Ahinoam had going was true... "And from that you determined that Sam and Dean are involved in an incestuous relationship with each other?"

Lucifer nodded. "Indeed. That cupid had been infected by Famine and was doing his job with twice the infuriating efficiency as before. No doubt about it."

"But...but Dean is the Righteous Man!" Michael had never felt so confused. Not even whenever Gabriel had, as a fledgling, taken to donning a stag beetle helmet and making dramatic poses and speeches about 'glorious purpose'.

"Hell if I know, brother." Lucifer replied.

"What are we going to do?"

Here Lucifer shuffled slightly, looking a bit abashed. "Actually I was thinking maybe we could call the Apocalypse off for a while." He said, chewing on his vessel's rapidly disintegrating lip. Michael made a mental note to put a bug in a Special Reaper about Nick's soul before what Lucifer said registered.

"WHAT?!"

"Hey, hey!" The fallen angel raised both hands placatingly. "I'm not happy about this either. Hell...I was looking forward to kicking your smug, holier-than-thou ass once and for all. But I think we should post-pone things a bit? At least long enough for Sam Winchester to fornicate and reproduce as well."

"That's entirely your fault, Lucifer, for having Azazel kill off his girlfriend, Jessica, and her child."

The Devil grinned darkly. "Oops. My bad." He said. "It's hard to strategise whenever you only have brainless black smoke goons left and you're inside THE PIT!"

"Azazel isn't a demon."

"He's a fallen Nephilim. Same difference. Now. About that rain check on the End of Days? Give it a few years and then we can try again with their kids. It won't be perfect, but better than inhabiting the vessels as they are now. Besides," He pouted, "Sam is off the demon blood again and actually managed to survive detox, so I couldn't even resurrect him and put a bug in his ear."

Michael rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn't have long before he'd have to leave Father Peter lest he kill the man and there had been enough casulties. "Do I have your word that you will not raise Death and that you will return to your throne in Hell until we can try again?"

There was a sloppy salute from Lucifer. "Satan's Honour, brother." He said. "Besides...I've got plenty of that 'wandering about like a raging lion' gig to catch up on. Gotta whip Hell into shape; the corporation is a _mess_!"

"Very well, then." Father help him, maybe he was making a mistake, but he would keep an eye on things to make sure Lucifer kept his word and it was certainly preferable to inhabiting vessels that were...it was the best course to take. Michael held out a hand. "Shake on it?"

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><p>"You know, sir, I've been thinking." Zachariah, now looking somewhat more pulled together, walked in to Michael's office...making his headache worse.<p>

"What?" The archangel ground out, wondering if this unexpected and unwanted development had been a sign from Father that they were going about this all wrong. Why were the vessels so uncooperative? Were they really THAT co-dependant? Had he done the right thing?

"Dean Winchester is still being uncooperative and Sam seems to be back on the wagon again unexpectedly, but there is another way. The half-brother, Adam Milligan."

"What of him?"

"His soul even now resides here in Heaven after he met his unexpected end at the hand of some mutated ghouls."

"And?"

"Perhaps a resurrection is in order, sir? Milligan may be his name, but he carries the blood of John Winchester in his veins. Surely that would be enough, illegitimate though he is, for you to use him as a vessel?"

"What?!"

"We are very behind on schedule, sir. Death is due to be raised any day. The Rapture was supposed to be _before _the raising of War and we missed that important event due to Sam Winchester not receiving Lucifer upon the breaking of the final seal."

"The schedule is changed, Zachariah!" Michael boomed, pulling himself up to his full height and feeling his patience snap. It had been a strange day.

Zachariah blinked. "Sir?"

"The Apocaplyse has been suspended until further notice." Zachariah made a kind of choking, spluttering nose, but Michael paid him no attention. "Notify the troops immediately. Lucifer's forces are drawing back to regroup and we must do the same. Sam and Dean Winchester are no longer a priority, but keep them under surveillance. Oh...and send a cupid to me at once, would you?"

The PR angel made a face as he took off. No one liked interacting with the huggy cupids, but Michael felt it was a fitting punishment for not warning him about the...issues the Winchester brothers had. There was sure to be repercussions once word got out of the post-poned Armageddon, but it was for the best. Maybe by the time Sam finally procreated and Dean Winchester's spawn grew to full manhood Father would have come back anyway. Now all he had to do was convince a cupid to go pull Sam away from his brother long enough to father a child. Hmmmm. When had heavenly duties become so HARD?!

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><p>Bobby was standing in the kitchen, attempting to salvage a pot of chili, when Gabriel strolled through the door. "Howdy, boys!"<p>

Before Bobby could do much more than gape, a blur of trenchcoat and black hair flew past him at near super-sonic speeds and pinned the newcomer to the door frame. "What are _you _doing here?" Castiel growled out, voice twice as low and threatening as usual. Bobby wondered if he should go for the Colt.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Dean-o! Call off your dog!" He yelled.

"Cas isn't a dog, asshat." Dean stepped into the kitchen, one of Sam's arms slung over his shoulder. "What the HELL do you want?"

"Well good day to you, too."

Dean flopped Sam down in a chair who groaned and massaged his temples. "How did you find us, Gabriel?" The younger Winchester asked in a scratchy voice. His first day out of the panic room and this happens? Life hated him.

The short man (who Bobby gathered was the archangel Gabriel) rolled his eyes. "Rib tats aren't a defense against a phonebook, genius." He said. "Looked up Bobby Singer and, voila! Here I am!" He pushed at Castiel. "Mind letting my vessel here breath, bucko?"

"Let him go, Cas." Dean sighed. "We've got enough in here to gank him if he misbehaves anyway."

Gabriel waggled his eyebrows. "Misbehave? Would I do that?" He stuck his head into Bobby's fridge. "Got any popsicles?"

Bobby kicked the door shut, hitting the angel in the rear end. "No. So sit your ass down and tell us what the hell you're doing here. Or else I'm going to fry your wings nice and crispy in holy oil."

"Ow." The archangel glared at Castiel. "Thanks a lot, Cassie, showing 'em that trick."

"_Gabriel_."

"Oh fine. I just stopped by to pick up my thank you present."

There was a silence so loud Bobby was sure he would be going deaf from it. One could almost hear crickets chirping.

"What?" Sam finally said.

"You know. A fruitbasket, maybe? Or some chocolates?"

"Um. Why would we be thanking you? For hitting Sam in the junk?" Dean cut in rudely. "All the offence in the world, but what exactly do we have to thank you for?"

Another eye-roll from the archangel. "Maybe for stopping the Apocalypse."

THAT got everyone's attention. "WHAT?!" Bobby and Sam squawked while Castiel collapsed on the floor in utter shock and Dean swore. Gabriel smiled smugly. "That's right, ladies." He said. "Lucy and Michelle have agreed to put their differences on the back burner for a few years at least. Oh, and Sam, I should warn you. Expect a cupid trying to lure you into bed with a hot young woman some time soon whenever you're out of condoms. They think you need to procreate or whatever."

"Whoa, whoa...hang on!" Dean said, looking about three seconds from strangling Gabriel and damn the consequences. "What's all this about the Apocalypse just ending and Sammy needing to get laid?"

"You owe me." Gabriel said, summoning a tin of Thin Mints out of thin air.

"I don't understand." Castiel said from where he was seated on the floor against the counter, trenchcoat rumpled.

Gabriel looked at him with a smirk. "You know, Dean-o, I see why you keep this one around. He is _adorable_!"

"Cut to the skinny." Bobby said, feeling as though they were going off on yet another bunny trail. "And how about set it out for us in layman's terms?"

"Fine!" The archangel heaved a sigh. "Lucifer and Michael have decided to put off their big ol' prize fight until the Moose here reproduces and has a kid. I may have tracked down that Famine-infected cupid and used him to suggest to the big bros that they really don't want to use you two as vessels."

Sam and Dean were both doing their best codfish impressions and Castiel was tipping his head in the manner that always said he was too confused even to ask, so it fell to Bobby once again to ask. "What?"

"In short, they seem to be under the impression that you two are romantically involved with each other in a torrid, passionate affair of star-crossed proportions."

Sam turned a lovely shade of green as this sunk in while Dean was turning redder than a beet. Much longer and they could double as a Christmas ornament. "What the _HELL_?!" Dean spluttered. "We're brothers, you sicko!"

"_I _know that, obviously." Gabriel rolled his eyes. "But it was the only way to cut through the crap both Mike and Luci swim in...and you owe me for all the hugs that stoned cupid handed out. I almost had to stand in to keep Satan from smiting him." He snorted. "But it worked. You two are now off the hook for the Apocalypse and, providing Sam here never has kids, it'll be put on hold until baby brother here finally finds Dad."

"What?"

"No Apocaplyse as long as Sam always uses protection. In shorthand."

Bobby rubbed the back of his neck and watched as Dean went still redder. That boy was going to give himself an aneurysm. Thankfully Sam spoke up before Dean could cuss out the Archangel-Turned-Trickster. "Fine, good, great. Is that all?"

"Yup." Gabriel summoned a can of soda from Bobby's cupboard and tipped back his chair with a satisfied grin. "Aw, c'mon, guys. I rather think all of Heaven shipping you two is a rather small price to pay for being off the hook for Armageddon."

"You bastard."


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